


Perfect Alignment

by BooksAndDragons



Series: ShuAke Confidant Week [2]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: M/M, Murder, black masks au i will someday do actual words for, kinda implied akechi newgame+
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 02:31:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16466996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BooksAndDragons/pseuds/BooksAndDragons
Summary: Deep in the cognitive Palace of the Cruiseliner, the Samael glared up at the gun pointed between his eyes. Unwavering, ready. He met the gaze of those that would become his murderers, one feature stuck him- a glaring similarity between the pair.Matching Black Masks.Basically, a rough ficlet inspired by my Black Masks AU that I swear I'll write someday





	Perfect Alignment

**Author's Note:**

> sooo i’ve been working on a Black Masks AU for a while now, but it’s all still a work in ~~mess~~ progress at the moment, but hey hopefully i’ll sort my unproductive arse out soon~
> 
> this is a tad rushed, but i hope you all like the fic anyway! and the concept, g o d i love this concept i wanna do real wordies about it soon

The bitter stench of the cognitive ocean pervaded their senses, so reflective of the twisted nature held by its palace ruler. Tacky gold detailings and rich velvet furniture overwhelmed all rooms aside from this one, no escape from such overt-lavishness even in the safe-room havens through gaps in the distortion.

But here, with muted carpet underfoot, and rows of empty leather seats surrounding them- here was where the distortion felt strongest. The perfect replica of the Representatives Chamber, complete with its own Prime Minister, ruling with absolutist power, unopposed by anyone, admired by all.

And fallen from corrupted grace, beaten and bruised, staring up at the gun barrel pointed directly between his eyes. Aim unwavering. 

A maniacal laugh taunted the fallen ruler, coming from the holder of the gun. Face long-since exposed from concealment under its black helmet, Goro Akechi smirked down at the man beneath him, satisfaction glinting in his eyes.

“Finally, after years of waiting- you’re exactly where you belong,” The gun moved, pressing against mottled purple skin on the cheekbone, “After all of the pain  _ you  _ caused, the lives you ruined, the people you killed- finally, you get what you truly deserve.”

Burning yellow eyes glared up at him, littered with malice and poison. Too late for Akechi to redirect his aim, a tight grip enclosed around the barrel, pushing it away as the man lunged for the boy, hands reaching for his throat.

No sooner had he tried such a move, that one sharp, stiletto’d heel kicked out, at the juncture between two vertebrae, sending the man crumpling forward. Akechi hardly batted an eye as he watched, re-adjusting his grip on the gun.

Scarlet leather-covered hands reached forward, gripping the fallen Prime Minister by the collar of his shirt to force him to his knees. Once again, Alechi pointed the gun forward, the barrel resting between two golden eyes.

The sharp click of heels encircled the beaten shadow. Strapped to the figure’s leather-clad thigh, a silver dagger glinted under the chamber’s dimmed lighting, just as sharp as the heels that had just been used to drive a point in the man’s back.

The figure came to a stop as the side of Goro Akechi, fitting to his side perfectly. Together, the pair stared down the barrel of the gun, matched in their satisfaction as they glared at their foe.

Akechi’s smirk had only widened at the presence of the other boy by his side, shifting ever so slightly closer to him, eves never straying from the target.

“You must remember Akira Kurusu, yes? You ruined his life, afterall.”

Akira would never recall, but Akechi could. The beaten and battered boy in the interrogation room, drugs hazing his normally clear-gaze. The crying and begging of a broken leader as Akechi closed the partition door. How the weight of leading the Phantom Thieves had once threatened to crush him. All because of the wretched man before him.

The stark yellow eyes of Masayoshi Shido’s shadow sharpened even more as Akira removes his mask, scarlet and black detailings no longer hiding his features.

“You…Tch, to think, it would be you pair of brats that would come after me. I should’ve dealt with you when I had the chance.”

The gun cocked, pressing further at the skin between the shadow’s eyes.

“What? Like you did to my mother?” An ugly snarl let itself known from the back of Akechi’s throat, a faint outline of Loki flickered behind him.

At his words, a smirk crawled onto Shido’s face, “She was an obstacle. There was always the threat she’d expose me- the bitch had to go.”

Deep maroon eyes flashed dangerously, the gun twitching in his hands. By the second, the figure of his persona grew increasingly solid.

Not wasting a moment, Akira was there, his hand steadying on Akechi’s shoulder; leaning close, whispering words of comfort into his ear, slowly pulling away as Akechi’s breath regulated, the gun steadying in his grip.

As Akira pulled away, the smirk on Shido’s face never faded, instead growing sharper.

“I should’ve guessed you were bending that brat over. Is that why he interrupted me, all those months ago? Just wanted a quick fuck like a little sl-”

A clawed fist replaced the gun between his two eyes, sending the man hurdling back before he could utter another word.

“Akechi!” Akira gaped at the other teen, but did nothing to bring the Samael back to his knees, “I know it’s Shido, but was that really necessary?!”

“Yes.” Was his short response, as they waited for Shido to bring himself upright once again.

It took a moment, the force behind the punch had been rather strong, and both teens were pleased to see a red welt already beginning to develop on his head. As he realigned the gun, Akechi made sure to press against the developing bruise, relishing in the pained hiss he received for his efforts.

“I’m sick of hearing you talk, anymore words and I’ll pluck the teeth out of your mouth one by one, understood?” Akechi’s voice was bitter, little above a hiss. He only received a glare as his reply, “Good. For years, I’ve put up with your shit. Followed orders, waiting for the day I could finally watch you wither away, a painful and unforgiving death- I’ll be there to witness it all in person.”

Again, Akechi cocked his gun. Beside him, charcoal grey eyes watched, arms folded.

“The best part? Nobody will ever know the truth of who did it. A suicide note. A confession of every murder, every mental breakdown, every false accusation- the public will finally know the monster you tried to hide form them. And it will be  _ justice _ .”

A clawed finger rested on the trigger, ready. The comforting presence of Akira at his side.

“You never had any power, it was always me. Me, who the public will always adore. You’re just another corrupt politician, exposed by the famous Detective Prince. Exposed as the bastard you truly are. So, Masayoshi Shido,” His eyes glinted, smirk exposing the canines behind the smile, “Rest easy and die.”

He pulled the trigger.

With a heavy thud, Shido fell backward, scarlet pooling from the exit wound behind his head. A second shot would get rid of the body; Akechi put his gun back in its holster.

For a pulsating second, neither of them moved, staring down at the body before them.

And then, laughter.

Loud, free, uncontained laughter. Maniacal.

Akechi threw his head back, hair bouncing slightly at the movement. Akira grinned just as widely when Akechi met his gaze, sweeping him into an embrace.

“We did it!” The whisper was filled to the brim with glee, glee only they knew, that they shared. They pulled each other closer, lips crashing against one another in their fever.

The kiss was bruising, grip on each other so tight that to pull away was agony. Panting, they stared into each other’s eyes, hot breath fanning their faces.

Akira leaned forward, resting his head against Akechi’s as he never strayed from eye contact, he smiled. It was soft, happy. Akechi felt his heart rejoice at the sight.

“We don’t have long, we should get going- before this place goes under.”

Akechi grinned, sneaking in a quick peck before grabbing his phone, the MetaNav ready, “Good riddance.”

They ran, as a slight tremour began underfoot, they sprinted to the exit, hands never letting go of one-another.

Loki’s mad laughter rang in their ears, accompanied by Arsene’s deep chuckles. They made it to the outside of the ship, winds around them howling, seas churning. In some areas, the ship had already begun to be set alight.

It felt like freedom.

With the light tap of a button, the ship filled with corruption began to fade from their view, replaced instead with the weathered structure of the Diet Building. For once, a creeping sense of nausea didn’t strike them as they gazed upon it.

Akira wrapped an arm around Akechi’s side, as the taller of the two pulled him in for a hug, grip unrelenting. Their hearts hammering in their chests.

“Let’s go home.” Akechi whispered in his ear, as they pulled apart- locking hands, and beginning to walk away, their backs to the Diet Building. Akira tried to ignore the slight churning in his stomach, a feeling of wrongness, as they walked.

Masayoshi Shido had no idea of the fate befalling him. Of his steadily deteriorating health. His days were numbered, the could be counted on a single, black-gloved hand. And the second he fell, the Black Masks would be there to witness it in person.

Akechi glanced to his side.

The wind teased through dark, fluffy hair. There was a soft smile on his face, fingers interlaced with Akechi’s own, gloved ones. Akechi pulled Akira closer, tighter to his side, as they walked home together.

Exactly as it should have always been.


End file.
